


Three Willing Men

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Revenge, Shippy Gen, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3076400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Western AU. The town of Paris, Nevada is under siege by a gang of bandits. When the town’s sheriff is killed, Mayor Treville hopes that appointing the notorious gunslinger Athos as his replacement might give them the edge they need - but to take on a whole gang Athos will need assistance, and the only men willing to help are a convicted murderer and a man seeking vengeance for his own reasons…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Willing Men

The street, normally bustling at this time of day was deserted from one end to the other. Beneath the clock tower, a single solitary figure stood waiting. 

He could feel the pressure of countless unseen eyes on him, peering from behind shutters and drapes the length of the road. He resisted the urge to look at his pocket-watch, or glance up at the clock face. Either the man he was waiting for would come, or he wouldn't. 

Sure enough, at a few minutes to noon the sound of approaching hooves could be heard, and a rider appeared at the far end of the street. He approached unhurriedly and dismounted a short distance away. 

"Sheriff. You're determined to see this through then." He sounded amused, and entirely at ease. The man facing him resisted the urge to go for his gun immediately, despite all his instincts screaming at him to do so.

"Vadim." He nodded in recognition that the other man had at least responded to his challenge. "Let's settle this here and now. A fair duel, that's what we agreed. That way no-one else has to die."

The newcomer nodded slowly, seemingly considering his words. Finally he looked up, a mocking smile on his lips. 

"On the other hand, _Sheriff_ , what's the point in a fair fight? I might lose." As he finished speaking, even before the other man had a chance to fully process his words or his intent, Vadim drew his pistol and fired three times. Every shot found its mark, and the sheriff toppled slowly into the dirt and lay still, his expression one of startled surprise.

Vadim was walking back towards his horse when the sound of a slamming door and running feet made him spin round, gun re-drawn in an instant. 

"Aramis!" A warning voice bellowed from somewhere, but the newcomer didn't check his pace; nor did he spare Vadim so much as a glance, instead throwing himself down beside the crumpled and unmoving form of the sheriff. 

Vadim fingered his gun thoughtfully, then shrugged and mounted his horse, riding away without a backward glance. 

When it was clear he'd really gone, people started cautiously emerging once more, the first of them a grizzled looking man who strode purposefully across to the pitiful tableau in the street.

"Sheriff Marsac?" he ventured.

Aramis looked up from where he was cradling the still form in his arms, and bleakly shook his head. There were tears tracking down his cheeks, and Mayor Treville clenched his fists, seething with impotent rage at the pointless waste of life.

He'd tried to talk Marsac out of this from the start, knew too, that Aramis had tried the same. But the sheriff had been adamant, seeing it as a way of saving lives, and confident he could outdraw the outlaw in a fair fight. 

A fair fight. Vadim had never given him the chance. Treville spat in disgust, and laid a heavy hand on Aramis' shoulder in silent commiseration.

\--

The afternoon was wearing to a close when Athos came within sight of the town, and he reined in his horse for a moment to study the sunbleached, bullet-ridden boundary sign. 

Paris, Nevada. It didn't look terribly welcoming, but then, that had never bothered him. He rode on slowly, feeling the stares of the few people going about their business boring into his back as he passed. A combination of curiosity and hostility, but that was nothing new either.

He tied his horse to the rail outside the saloon, which at least looked reasonably clean and hospitable compared to some of the places he'd drunk, and pushed in through the doors.

The saloon, like the street itself, was quieter than he'd expected. The piano stood silent and there was little buzz of conversation, the scattered handful of drinkers sitting in a hush that he sensed had nothing to do with his entrance.

The woman behind the bar at least produced a welcoming smile, and he smiled back politely. "Good afternoon. I'd like a room, if possible?"

Her smile went up a notch, into what Athos privately thought approached desperation, but he said nothing.

"Of course sir! Right now you can take your pick in fact," she told him with a rather brittle eagerness. "How long will you be staying?"

"Oh - just passing through," he said evasively, taking a seat at the bar and removing his hat. "Could I trouble you for a bottle of your best wine? I've been riding a long time, and my throat is mostly dust."

"Of course!" She produced a smile even more strained than the last one and watched surreptitiously as he poured himself a glass.

The first mouthful almost made him choke, and Athos swallowed with difficulty. "This is your best vintage?" he asked hoarsely, unsure if he'd been the victim of some impenetrable small-town humour, or if these people were in fact savages.

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, although there was more than a touch of embarrassment in it. 

"Right now I'm afraid it is. With the last three supply wagons being ambushed and the building of the railroad so behind on programme, we're down to the last of the cellar."

Athos frowned. "What? But that's outrageous. Why doesn't somebody do something?"

The man sitting next to him at the bar glanced up from his glass of whisky and gave Athos a sour look, though he addressed himself to the barmaid.

"Yes Constance, why doesn't somebody do something? As it would apparently be so easy."

"Oh hush Aramis." She flapped a hand at him and refilled his glass without being asked. "He's a stranger here, you can't expect him to know our troubles."

"I can expect him to keep his mouth shut on subjects he knows nothing about," Aramis growled. He'd been drinking for several hours, and was in a foul mood.

Athos shot him a look, although to Constance’s palpable relief it was one of curiosity rather than anger.

"I merely suggested that if you're having problems with bandits, it should be a simple enough matter to rid yourselves of them," he said archly. "If that's beyond the capability of your sheriff, perhaps you should consider electing another one."

Aramis was on his feet in a second, gun drawn and pointed into Athos' face. Behind the bar Constance yelled at him angrily, but he ignored her.

"Our sheriff was killed today trying to 'rid us' of them, as you so glibly put it," Aramis said tightly. His voice shook, but even after most of a bottle of whisky his hand was steady. "And you and I, _sir_ , will finish this in the street."

Athos hadn't moved, hadn't so much as flinched when the gun was pushed into his face, and kept his hands carefully away from his own holsters. He put together the flushed face and reddened eyes of the man accosting him with his words and the amount he seemed to have drunk, and sighed inwardly.

"My apologies," Athos said quietly. "It would appear you have lost a friend today, and I meant no insult. I spoke out of turn, and I'm sorry."

"You won't face me then? Are you such a coward?" Aramis lowered his gun slightly and Athos cocked an eyebrow at him, stung at having his apology rebuffed.

"On the contrary. But it would be unpardonably bad manners for me to kill a man who is clearly grieving."

Aramis immediately levelled his gun at Athos again with a strangled noise of rage. Athos didn’t turn a hair, but it was Constance marching between them that made them both jump. She snatched the pistol out of Aramis' hand and glared at both of them. 

"If men would just stop waving their weapons about for a second, maybe fewer would die round here!" she snapped. 

"Give me that - " Aramis reached for his gun then hastily withdrew his hand when it looked like Constance might bite it.

"No. You can have it back when you leave." She strode back behind the bar and placed it on a shelf, leaving Aramis wrongfooted and embarrassed. He wondered whether to push the point, although suspected against Constance he would inevitably lose. He looked sideways at his erstwhile opponent, expecting to see derision at letting himself be bested by a woman. Instead, the man gave him a look of complicit sympathy.

"In some cases, discretion can be the better part of valour," Athos murmured into his glass.

Aramis felt his anger abruptly leave him and he sank back into his seat with a tired laugh. "I guess I'll drink to that," he sighed.

They exchanged a look that while not quite friendly was at least no longer openly hostile, and offered each other a slight smile of reconciliation.

They drank in silence for a while, until the swing doors were pushed open once more and a man walked up to stand at the bar. Athos eyed him incuriously, of real note only because there seemed to be so few patrons. He was tall and dark skinned, and wearing dusty workmen's clothes and heavy boots. He seemed ill at ease and yet defiant at the same time which further piqued Athos' curiosity, noting the way the man was twisting his hat brim nervously in his hands.

Constance moved towards him, but was pushed out of the way by a tall, stern looking man who'd been polishing glasses behind the bar but so far letting her do all the work with regard to the customers.

"We don't serve your sort in here. Get lost."

Athos, having returned his attention to his drink, looked up in sharp surprise. The would-be customer seemed to be warring within himself whether to object or not, his expression both angry and mortified. Athos felt Aramis tense next to him, shooting a longing glance at his gun across the bar in anticipation of trouble. Finally though, the newcomer seemed to realise it was useless arguing, and shrugged in bitter surrender.

"Suit yourself. My piss tastes better than what you've got on offer anyway." He glared round the bar at everyone and marched out again.

There was an awkward silence. Athos looked into his glass and pushed it away from him a little. 

"They won't serve people of colour in here?" he murmured. "I'm not sure I like that."

Aramis shook his head. "It's not the colour of his skin that bothers Bonacieux. He'll take anyone's money, trust me. But that man's a convict." The surprise showed on Athos' face, and Aramis gave him a nod of confirmation. "He works on the railroad. There are gangs of them, they use them to clear the ground, lay the sleepers and rails. All the hard, dangerous work they'd have to pay anyone else too much to carry out, in other words."

Athos took this in, and frowned again. "They're allowed to wander about as they please?"

"Where would they go?" Aramis drained his glass and shrugged. "Anyone making a run for it - it's death by dehydration in hours, whichever way you go. You could risk stealing a horse, but then you'd be shot for your pains. Justice tends to be swift and harsh, out here." He sighed. "At least, it used to be."

Athos was about to press him for more details when the doors opened again to admit a tall gaunt figure with greying hair and a flowing priest's robe, coated with dust from the road.

"Here's more trouble," Aramis sighed.

"Who is he?" Athos asked in a low voice.

"Richelieu. Priest of this parish, and royal pain in the arse," Aramis told him, masking his words with his glass.

Athos watched with interest as the man approached a table not far from where they were sitting and accosted one of the men sitting there.

"Treville! What's this I hear about Marsac? Is it true?" 

Treville got to his feet and nodded wearily. "Vadim shot him down before they even started the duel," he sighed. "He never stood a chance."

Far from looking sympathetic, Richelieu snorted. "I told you it was a stupid plan from the beginning, but would you listen? You're supposed to be the mayor of this place, but we fall further into perdition day after day. Perhaps it's time someone else took over."

"Someone like you perhaps?" Treville raised an unsurprised eyebrow. "Over my dead body."

Richelieu sneered. "The ways things are going that might not be long."

"Was that a threat?" Treville glared at him. "You may have support in this town, but you'd do well to remember you don't have all of it."

As the two men glared at each other, Athos made up his mind and walked over.

"I wonder if I might be of assistance?" he offered. "I understand you're having bandit trouble. I have a certain set of skills that you might find - of some use."

"Meaning you're a gunslinger I suppose," Richelieu scoffed. "Ten a penny round here."

Treville was looking him over with rather more interest. "What's your name, lad?"

Athos gave a slight smile. He was only in his early thirties but it had been a while since he'd been called lad.

"My name is Athos."

What noise there had been in the bar abruptly dropped into a dead hush and even Richelieu looked impressed.

"I've heard of you," he conceded.

Athos gave a tilt of the head. "I'd be disappointed if you hadn't."

Behind them Constance nudged Aramis, who was looking distinctly pale at the realisation he'd just tried to challenge the state's most notorious gunfighter to a duel.

"Good thing he turned you down, eh?" Constance asked in a stage whisper.

Aramis cleared his throat. "I could have taken him," he muttered, then flushed scarlet as Athos glanced round at him and almost smiled.

Ignoring all this, Treville had come to a decision. He wasn’t entirely sure it was a good decision, but it would take the wind out of Richelieu's sails in the short term and probably annoy him intensely, therefore it had at least some merit.

"You can help us?"

Athos nodded. "I'm not cheap," he warned.

"You rid us of this man and his gang, you can name your price," Treville announced, ignoring Richelieu's spluttering.

"I can do it," Athos confirmed. 

"In that case, I hereby deputise you as temporary sheriff, until such time as we are freed of this menace," Treville declared, to the astonishment of the bar. 

Athos hid his own surprise, and nodded cautious agreement. He expected further objections from Richelieu, but received only a cold stare before the man abruptly turned on his heel and swept out. 

"Well." Treville scrubbed a hand through his hair, wondering distantly how big a fuck-up this was going to turn into. "Welcome aboard." He held out his hand, and Athos shook it. "My name's Treville, I'm Mayor of this town. I suppose whether I retain that position now rather depends on you."

"Then I will do my best not to let you down," Athos promised. "Failure would do little for my reputation either."

"Failure will do little for your life," Treville retorted. "The man's no respecter of authority."

"Oh, I have a couple of things he might be made to respect," Athos murmured, running his fingertips over the twin pistols slung at his hips. "Tell me more though. Who is this man, and where will I find him?"

Treville sighed. "His name is Vadim, other than that we know remarkably little about him. He has a camp somewhere in the hills to the north, the few people that have gone in search of its exact location have never returned. He has a gang of men at his command, outlaws and murderers for the most part. The first we knew of it was three months ago when the wagon train was held up, they took practically everything, and left the drivers for dead. One survived just long enough to tell of the attack."

Treville threw back the rest of his drink as if needing the strength to finish the tale. "A month later the same thing happened. Last month the wagons came with armed guards - and every man amongst them was killed. The death of our town won't be long after at this rate. The stagecoach and postal services also refuse to stop here any longer, and we're running out of supplies."

"The army - ?" Athos suggested.

"Doesn't care." Treville gestured with his empty glass, and Constance moved to bring him another. "They have more pressing issues, and we are only a small town. We've basically been told to solve it ourselves. Marsac - our sheriff - thought he had a solution. It cost him his life."

"Then let us hope I am harder to kill," Athos murmured. "The lady over there - Constance? - mentioned something about delays to the railway?"

Treville gave a mirthless laugh. "We thought it would be the answer to our prayers. It's a lot harder to hold up a thousand tonnes of screaming metal than a man and a horse. But there have been constant problems." He sat back in his chair and gave Athos grim eyes. "You have a reputation young man. I'm hoping it's deserved. Because right now? You may be our last hope."

Athos returned to his drink, reflecting that you really never knew how a day was going to turn out. Beside him, Aramis gave him an unreadable look before staring down into his glass as if it held all the answers.

After a while Aramis seemed to come to a decision, and slid something across the bartop.

"Guess you'll be needing this," he said quietly.

Athos looked down. It was a metal sheriff’s badge, presumably taken from the previous incumbent. He didn’t question why Aramis had had it in his pocket, but when he reached out to take it Aramis kept hold, and Athos saw the hesitation in his eyes.

"I won't bring dishonour to it," Athos told him quietly. "You have my word."

Aramis looked at him searchingly, then relented and let Athos pick up the badge. 

"So where do you fit into all this?" Athos asked after a moment. 

"Marsac - was my friend. I own a ranch just outside of town. Largest head of cattle in the county, best grazing, and sweet water," Aramis said with a note of pride, then sighed. "For all the good it does me. We're practically under siege here, they rob any groups coming in or out, and the railroad which was supposed to be our saviour seems to face setback after setback. It's like we're cursed."

"I don't believe in curses." Athos finished his wine, and signalled Constance for another bottle.

"Blimey, you can put it away.

Athos conceded the point, but smiled. "This one's not for me."

\--

In the high heat of summer the river was barely a trickle, and the man who'd been turned away from the saloon was sitting morosely on a log, throwing stones at a bottle sticking out of the mud. He was mostly missing, and the cracked surface of the riverbed was pocked with the marks of his efforts. 

When a stone sailed over his shoulder and hit the glass with a sharp click he was on his feet in seconds looking wary. When he saw the man standing above him was wearing a sheriff's star on his shoulder, his expression became even more guarded.

"What do you want? Or is minding my own business against the law now too?"

Athos slid carefully down the bank towards him and shook his head mildly. 

"Actually, I've brought you a present. A bottle of Bonacieux’s finest piss." He held out the bottle, but the other man made no move to take it.

"Beads for the natives?" he suggested, scathingly. 

Athos shrugged. "Well, if you don't want it..." 

The man wavered, then snatched it with a sigh. "What do you want?"

"Information. I'm told you work on the railroad. It has been suffering setbacks, I want to know why."

"Why ask me? Why not the works captain?" came the suspicious demand.

"If you were in charge, would you want to tell me why things keep going wrong?" Athos asked.

"Nah. Maybe not."

"I've always found, if you want to get to the bottom of something, ask the people already at the bottom. The ones with nothing to lose. And no reason to lie, perhaps?"

The man regarded him thoughtfully then looked at the bottle. "It's not really piss is it?"

Athos shrugged. "Might as well be." He smiled slightly. "There you go, we have at least a common aim in getting the branch connection completed, if only for the sake of our palates."

His new acquaintance laughed, and sat back down on the log, waving to Athos to join him.

"What's your name?" Athos asked.

He got a long, intent look from dark eyes before the man answered. "Porthos. Porthos du Vallon." He gave a dry laugh.

"What's funny?"

"It's been a long time since anyone bothered to ask me my name, that's all." Porthos considered him, then uncorked the wine and took a drink, wincing slightly at the taste. "So who are you then? Or do I just call you Sheriff?" 

"My name is Athos."

Porthos looked impressed. "The gunslinger? I've heard of you."

"I get that a lot."

"And they made _you_ sheriff?" 

Athos nodded.

"Makes sense I suppose. Set a killer to catch a killer."

"There have been a lot of deaths, it seems?"

"Oh yes. On the railroad too. Accidents, they called them." Porthos looked disgusted. "I know better though."

Athos looked surprised, and Porthos shook his head. "You ask me, they weren't accidents. We should have had the line up and running into Paris this last winter, but it's been one thing after another. Men have died." He looked away. "Last month, a load of staging collapsed, crushed five men to death." He looked back at Athos, sharp and intent. "I worked on that staging myself. No way would it have gone like it did. One or two beams not fixed properly, sure, you'd get a problem, but a wholesale collapse? Nah. And it was the engineers that copped it. Put the programme right back." He sighed. "I don't understand it."

Athos looked thoughtful. "At the moment this Vadim seems to have the town sewn up. But the railway - the completion of the line's going to screw his plans. It's a lot harder to hijack a train than a coach."

"You think there's a connection?" Porthos asked, surprised.

"Who else stands to gain? And you said it yourself, they don't seem to be accidents." He stood up. "Will you do something for me?"

Porthos nodded warily. "Depends."

"Just - keep your eyes open? For anything that seems out of place. And let me know?"

"What's in it for me?"

"A deep and satisfying sense of inner virtue?"

Porthos snorted and Athos smiled. "Or how about knowing you've helped put a stop to the deaths of innocent people?" he said more quietly.

"You trust me?" Porthos asked, wonderingly.

Athos shrugged. "I don't trust anyone yet. Which is possibly why Treville hired me. No vested interest, you see."

"You don’t want to know what I did then? To end up here?" Porthos called after him as Athos made his way back up the riverbank.

"Not especially. Do you have a burning desire to tell me?"

"Not especially." Porthos grinned up at him, and Athos nodded.

"That's alright then."

\--

Athos passed the rest of the evening in the saloon bar, interviewing the few patrons who were willing to talk to him and trying to build up a picture of what was going on. 

Despite his initial reservations about the establishment, he passed a comfortable enough night and was breakfasting the next morning when Treville pushed through the swing doors from the street.

"Athos." He tipped his hat back and settled into the opposite chair at Athos' invitation. "So. Have you a plan yet?"

Athos gave a slight smile. "I've been here less than a day. But a few things seem to suggest themselves." He steepled his fingers and looked consideringly at Treville. "What happens if they're not stopped? Long term, I mean?"

"I'd be out of a job for one thing," Treville said with a humourless laugh. "I don't know, people would leave I suppose, those that could afford to, anyway."

"But not everyone could," Athos suggested. "Those whose money was tied up in businesses and land here. If the town lost confidence, voted you out, and someone else came forward - "

"Who else would be daft enough to take on a poisoned chalice like this?"

"Say it was someone who could make the problem quietly go away."

"You think Vadim is being _paid_ by someone?" Treville looked shocked as he caught on to Athos' train of thought.

"Why else is he hanging around? There can't be many pickings left now the stagecoaches have stopped coming," Athos mused. "And why kill your sheriff? He had no real reason to risk himself like that. A less honourable man than Marsac would have had him picked off from a window as soon as he was within range."

"Is that your Plan A?" Treville wondered with a snort. Athos smiled.

"Plan B perhaps."

"You seriously think there's a bigger conspiracy behind all this?"

"Just thinking out loud." Athos shrugged. "Might be all fairytales. But if it wasn't - just suppose. Get you out of the way - we're not talking about stealing a few goods any more. We're talking about stealing the whole town."

Treville shook his head. "What you're suggesting - it's preposterous."

"Perhaps," Athos conceded. "Maybe it really is just a simple case of banditry, and I'll clean them out and everything will be fine. Which brings me to another point - I'll need help. I'm good, but there's a point it comes down to weight of numbers. Are there no deputies?"

"Marsac had two. They both left on the last stagecoach out." Treville considered. "You could do worse than approach Aramis. He's a good man, and he could do with something to keep him occupied right now."

"He and Marsac were - close?"

Treville nodded. "His death has hit Aramis hard. I'd consider it a personal favour if you'd look out for him."

"I'm hardly a babysitter," Athos warned. Treville snorted.

"He can handle himself, don't worry. You don't last long out here if you can't. Here." Treville pushed a pair of rather tarnished and dented badges across the table to Athos. 

"I have free rein?" Athos clarified. "I can deputise whomsoever I see fit?"

Treville nodded. "You may have trouble getting anyone to volunteer. This is a frightened town. Aramis I think is in danger of doing something rash on his own account, but otherwise - " he shrugged.

Athos gave him a ghost of a smile. "I'm sure I'll think of something." 

Treville hadn't been long gone when Bonacieux stalked across the floor like a disapproving heron and peered out of the window, glaring down into the street.

"What's _he_ doing back? Looking for the opportunity to steal something, I'll be bound."

Athos leaned back in his chair to see who he was looking at and spied a figure hesitating across the street from the saloon, clearly unwilling to enter. 

"Let me deal with this." He scraped his chair back and walked unhurriedly outside, to the surprised gratitude of his host who was starting to think that perhaps there were advantages to having gunslingers around after all.

Outside in the growing heat of the morning, Athos pulled his hat down to shade his eyes and strolled across to where Porthos was watching him approach.

"Good morning," Athos said, receiving a grunt in reply. "You have something for me?"

Porthos looked at him for a long moment, apparently weighing up whether to trust him.

"Last night. There was a light on in the site offices when everything should have been locked up. When I looked in the head supervisor was there with a group of men, nothing to do with the railroad. Some kind of secret meeting."

"Did you see their faces? Would you recognise them again?"

Porthos shook his head. "Didn't dare stay too close. And they all had scarves tied over their mouths when they came out."

"Which is suspicious enough in itself," Athos mused. "There was no wind to speak of last night."

"They were all on horses, so I couldn't follow them," Porthos added. "But I can tell you something, they didn't head back into town. They rode north."

"North! Towards the hills."

"Exactly."

Athos nodded slowly, considering. Porthos watched him. 

"There were a lot of 'em. All armed. You really gonna sort all this out on your own then?"

"No." Athos half-smiled at his look of surprise. "I shall need help. How would you fancy being a deputy?"

Porthos stared at him incredulously for a second, then creased up laughing. When he could breathe again, Athos was still watching patiently. 

"I'm serious."

"I'm a convicted criminal. Is that even legal?" Porthos asked, bemused.

Athos shrugged. "It wouldn't be permanent. Once this is over I intend to move on, but for now I have been granted full powers. If it goes well, I could get Treville to put in a good word for you with the judge. As rewards go that's all I can offer, but it is a promise."

"And if it doesn't go well?"

"Then we will all be too dead to worry about it."

Porthos looked at him with a tinge of amusement. "What's to stop me taking the horse and gun and doing a runner? Why should you trust me?"

"Because were you to betray that trust, I should find you and kill you," Athos said simply.

A slow grin spread across Porthos' face. "I like the way you think."

"I find a direct approach brings its own rewards," Athos said dryly. "Does that mean we have an agreement?"

Porthos nodded. "I'll do it. Don't exactly have anything to lose, do I?"

They shook hands, and Athos cocked his head thoughtfully. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"Will you join me?"

Porthos cast a wary eye at the front of the saloon. "He won't serve me."

"He strikes me as a man of expedience." Athos held out his hand again. In his palm lay one of the deputy's stars that Treville had given him. "I think he will now, don't you?" 

\--

Athos was proved right, and despite an initial amount of spluttering protest, Bonacieux saw the way the wind was blowing fast enough and retreated from the field of conflict, leaving his wife to serve up a respectable plateful that made Porthos' eyes gleam. 

He was halfway through, Athos nursing a coffee, when the doors swung open to admit Aramis. He looked pale and drawn, as if he'd slept badly.

"Give me a whisky," he said, voice hoarse and scratchy, as if he'd been shouting. Or crying, Athos thought. "Make it a double."

"It's barely eight o' clock," Constance told him indignantly.

"What do you care?" Aramis shot back, then winced. "Sorry. Sorry, that was rude." He rubbed his eyes. "I just need it, okay? Hair of the dog."

Constance relented somewhat. "You can have it," she said. "But only if it's in coffee."

Aramis sighed and nodded agreement.

As he looked incuriously round the bar, mostly deserted at this hour, Athos caught his eye. 

"Will you join us?" Athos invited, pushing out a chair.

Aramis hesitated, then came over and sat down as curiosity got the better of him. "You have interesting taste in friends," he murmured. 

Porthos looked up briefly from his breakfast, decided Aramis was of less immediate interest than the bacon, and calmly continued eating.

"I'm glad I've seen you," Athos said. "I have a proposition to make."

"It's not bank robbery is it?" Aramis suggested, nodding thanks to Constance as she brought over his coffee. "Because I'm not entirely sure there's much left in there worth stealing at this point."

Athos gave a tolerant sigh. "This is Porthos. He has agreed to act as one of my deputies for the duration of my tenure. I would like you to be the other."

"Me!" Aramis looked startled. "Not entirely sure I'm qualified." He shot a dubious look at Porthos. "Although the requirements are clearly - basic."

Porthos pointed a fork at him. "Have you ever been stabbed in the eye with a piece of cutlery? No? Would you like to be?"

"Gentlemen," Athos murmured reprovingly. "Play nicely."

Aramis sighed, taking a sip of his coffee and immediately making a face. "There was supposed to be whisky in this," he grumbled, and held it out enquiringly. Athos took an obliging sniff and shook his head. 

"I think you've been done."

"Hope you didn't pay already," Porthos grinned, wiping his plate with a piece of bread and sitting back contentedly. 

"Clearly not going to be my day," Aramis sighed. He fixed Athos with a hard look. "You're going after Vadim?"

"Yes."

"Then I guess I'm in."

Athos nodded, and slid the second badge across the table to him. 

"No objections to the company you'll be forced to keep?" Porthos challenged.

Aramis shook his head. "I want him dead. If you can assist me in that aim, then you have my full backing."

Athos cleared his throat. "I feel I should point out that technically the aim of this is to apprehend Vadim and return him for a fair trial." Aramis and Porthos stared at him and he gave them a slight smile. "Yes, well. I guess we'll see how that pans out."

\--

When breakfast was done and Aramis and Constance had finally stopped arguing about the coffee, the three men made their way down to the site of the new railroad.

In the dry summer heat the air was full of choking dust, as men and horses heaved wooden sleepers and iron rails into place. Further up, the trackbed itself was still being excavated, and construction of the station building and platform was also underway. The hammering and shouting of organised chaos surrounded them, steam belching from the traction engine driving the thick belt of an enormous timber saw.

A man stepped out of a cloud of vapour and with a cry brought his stick down across Porthos' shoulders before anyone could react.

"Where have you been, you worthless cur?" he exclaimed. "You're so desperate to rejoin the men in chains?" He raised his stick again for a second blow, and yelped in surprise when Athos caught hold of it on the downswing.

"Who the devil are you?"

"My name is Athos, I am the new sheriff," Athos said calmly, giving no indication that stopping the blow of a wooden cane with his bare hand must have hurt considerably. "I apologise for removing Porthos from his duties, but as you can see, I have temporarily deputised him into my employ, and any problem you have with that, you may therefore take up with me, not him." 

The man gaped at him, mouth hanging open to display stained and uneven teeth. "You can't do that," he announced finally.

"Well, I can and I have," Athos said dismissively. "And given that he will henceforth be underneath the sheriff’s, that is to say my, direct supervision, you can hardly argue that he is any less in the grip of the law than he was whilst working here. Now, I suggest you take us to the man in charge, because I'll take a wild stab in the dark and hazard that it isn't you."

Whilst the overseer was still trying to work out whether he'd just been insulted or not, a man appeared from the station frontage on a wooden platform at first floor level, and stared down at them.

"That's him," Porthos murmured. "Captain Alleyn. It was him and his cronies I saw last night."

Athos lead the way up the rickety flight of steps and introduced himself to the man Porthos had indicated. To all intents and purposes he'd come as a courtesy to inform the captain that he was appropriating one of his convicts for a while. In reality, this was mostly an excuse to get a good look at the man and weigh him up. 

What he saw didn't fill Athos with enthusiasm. Alleyn was perhaps in his mid-forties, sporting a tightly waxed moustache and overly smart clothes and top hat, his patent leather shoes shined to within an inch of their lives, despite the dusty conditions. He listened to Athos' explanations, smiling politely all the while but never letting it reach his eyes, which remained cautious and condescending.

"Well," Alleyn said finally. "If you can rid the town of this pest, I'm sure everyone will be grateful. Keep du Vallon for as long as you want if you think he'll be of use." His expression clearly suggested he found this unlikely, and Athos was conscious of Porthos shifting restlessly behind him, although he kept silent. 

"Thank you. I - " Athos broke off as a loud percussive crash echoed around the construction site, and a cloud of dust rose into the air some way distant.

"What the hell was that?" Athos asked, both reassured and mildly embarrassed by the fact neither Porthos nor Aramis had reacted at all to the noise.

"They're blasting," Porthos explained. "Clearing the rock for the trackbed."

"You get used to it," Aramis added with a slight smirk. 

Athos gave him a sour look, but in the next moment there was a second almighty explosion and bits of dirt and stone rained down on them. Everyone jumped for cover under the veranda of the building.

"You're not telling me _that_ was normal?" Athos managed.

Aramis shook his head, looking shocked. "They must have detonated a huge amount for something that big!"

"It was the platform!" Porthos exclaimed, leaning out and staring down the site. "They've blown it to bits!"

They hurried back down the steps and raced towards the cloud of dust billowing from the site of the explosion. As the air cleared a little they could see the full extent of the devastation. Broken timbers and twisted metalwork stuck out of the ruins of what had been the almost-completed station platform. Men were stumbling out of the wreckage, bleeding and dazed, others could be seen still lying in the rubble.

Without needing to confer the three men set to work, tending the injured, helping them to safety and in some cases digging them out of the collapsed structure. 

It seemed that a stockpile of the blasting powder had been detonated, either by accident or, as they couldn't help wondering, by design.

Aramis was scanning the wreckage, wondering with relief if they'd got everyone out, when he heard a faint voice calling for help. Crouching down, he finally caught sight of a man trapped beneath a set of overhanging timbers. Bloodstained and white with dust, he reached out weakly towards Aramis.

"Help me!"

"Hold on," Aramis said, stretching towards the grasping fingers. Taking hold, he tried to pull the man towards him only to find he was wedged in place. Above them the structure creaked and shifted ominously. Aramis knelt in the dirt and leaned further in.

"Aramis!" A way off, Athos had noticed what he was doing, and with an eye on the unstable debris above him was considerably alarmed. "Get out of there!"

"Someone's trapped. I can reach him!" Aramis called back, stretching further. 

"Aramis move, the whole thing's going!" Athos yelled, watching in horror as the weight shifted and stones started slipping to the ground. Athos started running, knowing he was too far away to reach him in time.

Aramis looked up, realisation finally dawning of his position. He was half-kneeling, in too awkward a stance to move quickly, and could do nothing but stare in horror as tonnes of stone and scaffolding slid towards him in what felt like slow motion. 

And then something hit him in the side, tackling him bodily out of the way and he rolled over and over with another body on top of him, coming to a stop just inches from the crashing stones.

He coughed, blinking Porthos' face into focus. Porthos looked down at him, panting with exertion, and grinned. He rolled off and offered Aramis a hand up as Athos ran over to them.

Aramis nodded in silent thanks, words for the moment beyond him. Buoyed up on adrenaline Porthos laughed delightedly and slapped him on the shoulder. "Next time move quicker," he advised.

"I was just trying to help." Aramis sighed, looking at where a sea of rubble completely covered the place where he'd been standing, knowing the man he'd tried to rescue must be dead and how close he'd come to joining him.

"Come on." Athos spoke with quiet purpose. "We'll organise everyone into clearing this. We can dig out the body at least."

"Someone's less than moved by it all," Porthos murmured, and they looked back at where Alleyn was still standing on the balcony watching them silently. 

"He didn't even seem particularly surprised by the explosion, now I come to think about it," Athos said quietly. 

"You think he knew that this was going to happen?" Aramis demanded, outraged. He'd have stormed off there and then to confront him, but Athos held him back.

"Later. Wild accusations will get you nowhere. We need proof before we act." 

\--

It took the rest of the day to clear enough of the rubble to be sure there was no-one else buried beneath it. Overall there had been two fatalities, the man Aramis had tried to save and another who it turned out had been close to the initial explosion. The mood was sombre as the three men gathered tiredly in the saloon for a subdued supper.

Aramis slumped in his chair, toying with his glass, his expression grim. "So. What do we do?"

Athos considered. "The primary threat is Vadim. We neutralise him, at least we can see then if there's a move made to replace him. See if there really is a wider power at work here. We may even be able to make him talk." He was cleaning his pistols as he spoke, and the calm movements of his fingers over the metal gave his words a chilling weight.

"And how do you propose to accomplish this where others have failed?" Aramis asked tiredly.

Athos glanced up, wondering if Aramis had taken his words as a criticism of Marsac, but there was no accusation in his face, just weary heartache.

"Vadim's camped in the hills, right?" Athos said. "We flush him out. Take the fight to him."

"He'll pick us off before we even get close," Porthos snorted, speaking for the first time. "It's a killing ground out there, there's no cover."

"Then we go at night," Athos said. "Cross the open ground in darkness, and hole up somewhere until it's first light. Surprise them while they're still asleep. Aramis, how are your tracking skills?"

"It's been so dry there'll be precious few signs. But we're talking quite a few horses. I can lead us to them," Aramis said confidently. "And there's only one easy track up into the hills."

Athos nodded. "Then we go tomorrow night."

\--

" _That's_ your plan?" Treville stared incredulously at him. "Just the three of you? Against Vadim's entire gang?"

It was the afternoon of the following day, and Athos had sought out the Mayor to explain their intentions. Not so much seeking approval, as wanting someone to know what had happened to them if they didn't return.

"No-one else was willing," Athos said mildly. "The town's too frightened."

"And if you all get yourselves shot?"

"Then I regret you will need to find yourself another sheriff. But this isn't intended as a suicide mission. We will endeavour to return in one piece."

Treville glared at him, not entirely sure if he was being mocked, but Athos returned his gaze placidly enough and he sighed.

"You're our last hope. I won't willingly send you out to die, but I need Vadim stopped."

Athos nodded understanding. "We will do our best for you. 

"You pull this off, you'll certainly earn your fee." Treville leaned back in his chair and regarded Athos narrowly. "I assume I need not remind you that officially your duty is to attempt to bring him in alive? That you are retained by this office as a sheriff, not an assassin."

"And unofficially?" Athos couldn't help adding, not having missed Treville's light emphasis on the word.

Treville just looked at him. Athos gave a slight bow of acknowledgment, and left.

\--

That evening they waited impatiently for nightfall, the light summer's day stretching out unbearably. As soon as it was fully dark the three of them mounted up and rode quietly out of the town, taking a route through the back streets to avoid unnecessary notice.

Once out in the open they felt better, despite the fact they were riding into danger. They rode in silence, harnesses muffled to prevent any jingling that might give them away when they got closer. 

There was a full moon overhead, which was both a blessing and a curse. It would be easy to find their way, but also easy for anyone to see them coming. They had to hope that Vadim's gang were far enough away not to bother keeping a watch over the valley, as their stark black shadows would be easily picked out from a distance.

An hour's ride and they were picking their way up the first slopes. Aramis went first, knowing the terrain best, leading them deeper into the hills. As the slopes rose around them they couldn't help giving apprehensive glances up into the darkness. It would be simple to ambush them here, they could be picked off with ease.

To everyone’s relief they made it through the first range of hills without incident. Riding down into a valley, Aramis lead them to a sheltered gulley where they dismounted and gathered round.

"From here they could have gone in any number of directions," Aramis said in a low voice. "We'll need to wait until it's light to pick up the trail." 

"May as well try and get some sleep," Athos said. "There's still a few hours until dawn."

Not wanting to risk building a fire in case the light was seen, they made themselves as comfortable as they could on the stony ground and shared some food. There had been no indication that Vadim or his people were anywhere in the vicinity, but they kept their voices low, and conversation to a minimum. 

Eventually they settled down beneath thin woollen blankets, lying close together for warmth in the absence of a fire. 

"We're not taking him alive." 

The sudden assertion came from Aramis, quietly made and without looking at the others. 

Athos glanced at him. "And if he surrenders?" he asked neutrally.

"He won't."

"But if he does?" Athos propped himself up on his elbow, looking at Aramis. "Being as I somehow appear to be the designated representative of law and order here - it would be my duty - "

"To hell with duty!" Aramis said angrily. "He killed Marsac. He deserves to die."

Athos shrugged. "You'll get no real argument from me. I was merely making sure I understood your full intent."

"You ever killed a man before?" This, unexpectedly, from Porthos, lying on Aramis' other side.

Aramis hesitated. "No. But that doesn't mean I can't."

"I have. Once." Porthos rolled over until he was staring up at the stars. "I was part of a travelling show. Court of Miracles we were called. Small time con artist stuff mostly, bearded lady that was a bloke in a dress, snake oil cure-alls, cardsharps, rainmaker machines that we promised would work once we were at least one town away..." he sighed. 

"Then one day the law caught up with us. It's not like we were doing anything horrendously illegal, probably would only have been facing a fine though we didn't have the money. But Charon - he was our leader like, you know? He panicked. Pulled a gun." 

Porthos' face was stony in the moonlight, Athos and Aramis listening in fascinated silence. This was the most either of them had ever heard Porthos talk, certainly the first information he'd volunteered about himself.

"It's not like he was going to use it. Bloody thing wasn't even loaded, probably wouldn’t have fired even if it had been. It was his grandfather's, he just used to carry it about with him. But I guess they didn’t know that."

"They shot him?" Athos hazarded quietly, when Porthos was silent for a long moment.

"Yeah." Porthos sat up, pulled the blanket around him as if he was suddenly cold. "The others moved on, but I stayed behind. Didn't know what to do with myself. Couldn’t sleep, couldn't settle. He was my friend. More than my friend. Family, I suppose. More than I ever had. So I tracked him down. The guy that did it."

"You killed him?" Athos prompted, after another long pause.

"In cold blood." Porthos gave a heavy sigh. "They arrested me straight away. I didn't even try to run. Guess I didn't see the point. Expected they'd hang me." He gave a tight laugh. "Still not entirely sure why they didn't. Figured to get some use out of me I suppose. Twenty five years' hard labour."

Athos winced. "That's a death sentence in itself." The life expectancy of such a punishment could be barely more than a handful of years at best.

"Would have been kinder to hang me." Porthos grinned, but there was no mirth in it. "Anyway. here I am."

Aramis shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure if that was meant to deter me from shooting Vadim, but I'm still determined he should pay."

Porthos shook his head. "I'd never try and talk a man out of anything he's set on. I suppose I'm just saying - I understand. How you feel. But revenge doesn't bring anyone back, you know? And then - if you do it - if you kill him - well, I suppose I'm saying I'll know how you feel then too. Afterwards, like. If you need someone. To listen."

Aramis was quiet for a beat. "Thank you," he said, genuinely touched. 

Porthos just nodded and lay down again, facing deliberately away from them and feeling awkwardly like he'd shared too much of himself. But the darkness and the shared danger had seemed to invite confidences, and in a way it was a weight off him too, to have told them. 

He'd been bearing it a long time alone, and that neither Aramis nor Athos had condemned his actions felt like a surprisingly huge relief. Porthos fell asleep wondering at the fact that their good opinion of him should have become so important in such a short space of time.

\--

An awareness of stealthy movement nearby brought Porthos back to consciousness and he tensed before opening his eyes, ready to explode into attack mode. 

Cautious investigation through half-closed lids revealed it was only Athos, readying the horses with a quiet purpose and he relaxed again. There was a warm weight against his back that proved to be Aramis, still fast asleep.

Porthos sat up carefully, trying not to wake him. Aramis was frowning in his sleep, the fingers of one hand clenched into a fist. Porthos watched him for a second, wondering if the course Aramis was set on would bring him peace, or merely a different kind of misery. 

He pulled the blanket up to cover Aramis' shoulder, then looked round to find Athos watching him in turn. He flushed, but Athos just gave him a slight nod of approval, and turned back to the horses.

It was early, the sun only just up, and the air was still chilly. Porthos pulled his own blanket around his shoulders and went to join Athos.

"Here." Athos pulled a revolver out of his saddlebag, clicked it open to show Porthos it was loaded, and offered it to him.

"You're trusting me?" Porthos couldn't help the note of disbelief in his voice as he took it.

"If I didn't, you wouldn't be here. And I hardly expect you to face this lot unarmed."

Porthos nodded, and tucked the gun into his belt. "I won't let you down," he said solemnly.

To his surprise, Athos gave him a brief smile. "I know." He glanced over at the sleeping Aramis then back to Porthos, faintly amused. "Should we toss a coin to see who has to wake him?"

\--

Despite the dryness of the ground and the fact it had been a couple of days since they'd ridden this way, it didn't take Aramis long to find signs of the gang's passing. 

Wary now, they rode in single file up a narrow canyon, every sense straining for any indication there might be people nearby. 

They'd been travelling for about twenty minutes, chafing at their slow progress but unwilling to risk stumbling upon the camp unawares, when they heard a horse whinnying somewhere nearby.

Everyone froze and listened intently, but there were no signs that anyone had taken alarm.

"It can probably sense our horses," Aramis breathed. "Hopefully the men don't have such sharp ears."

They dismounted, and Athos crept up a steep rise to peer into the hollow beyond. He spent a few seconds watching, then slithered silently back down to them.

"Six of them, all still asleep," he whispered. "Porthos, how many were there when you saw them at the station that night?"

Porthos looked mildly panicked, and counted hastily in his head. "Six? Six. I think."

Athos and Aramis looked at him exasperatedly. "It is rather important," Athos whispered acidly.

"Six." Porthos nodded decisively. "I'm certain of it."

"Right. Then that's all of them. We're in with a chance." Athos took a loop of cord from his saddle bags and cut it into lengths, handing some to Aramis and Porthos. 

"What are we going to do, whip them into submission?" Porthos smirked.

Athos gave him a look. "We sneak down there and tie them together. Lift any weapons we can. Tie their boots. If they wake they'll be confused, and fall over if they try to stand. We should be able to subdue them between us."

Porthos stared at him. "That's the shittest plan I've ever heard," he declared under his breath.

"Do either of you have a better one?" Athos enquired. 

"Can't we just shoot them?" said Aramis, although he didn’t sound all that enthusiastic about the idea.

"Six men, in cold blood?" Athos asked quietly. "Even I'd baulk at that. Besides, the noise of the first shot would wake the others too quickly. This way, we're in with a chance of taking them all alive. Remember, we've got questions we want answering."

He waited, and with a glance at each other and a mutual shrug, Aramis and Porthos both nodded.

They climbed back up the slope with as little sound as possible, and crept down the other side until they were within the circle of slumbering men. A fire in the centre had burnt itself out, and the good scattering of empty bottles suggested both that they'd been working their way through the goods taken from the supply wagons and that with any luck they were all deeply asleep.

With silent gestures they took two men each and gingerly crouched down to loop the cords around their ankles. Working on the basis of hampering movement rather than attempting a tight binding that might disturb the sleepers, they moved on to lifting weapons carefully out of holsters and carrying them to one side. Athos ran a longer rope between all of them, and almost had all six tied to each other when Aramis' foot struck an empty bottle, sending it rattling away.

He winced, throwing a look of apology at the others and they scattered backwards as the camp woke, tried to move, and promptly fell into each other in yelling confusion.

Athos fired a single shot into the air to seize their attention. 

"Gentlemen, you are all under arrest. Come quietly, and we will see you receive a fair trial."

There was a fresh outcry at his words, men scrabbling for weapons that weren't there and tripping each other up all over again. One man fell into the embers of the fire with a yell, and another produced a gun from the folds of his blanket.

Porthos stepped forward and punched him out before he could fire it, and Athos fired another warning shot that finally made everyone freeze. By now Aramis was standing with his shotgun levelled at the group, and Athos nodded approval at the sudden silence.

"Thank you. Porthos, help me tie them properly."

With Aramis covering them, they moved quickly between the confused and increasingly angry men, binding their hands together behind them, so they were all in a single knot of grumbling ire.

There had been less resistance than they'd been expecting, and as Athos and Porthos moved to a safe distance, Aramis lowered his gun a little and moved round the group of captives, his frown deepening as he examined them closely.

"What is it?" Athos had noticed his growing consternation.

"Vadim's not here."

"What?" Athos stared at him in alarm.

"I'm telling you, he's not here. I'm not likely to forget his face in a hurry and he's not one of them."

"Where's your boss?" Porthos demanded, grabbing the nearest man by his shirt front. The man scowled at him and spat contemptuously on the ground. 

Porthos was about to retaliate when a shot rang out, and he ducked.

"Take cover!" Athos yelled, and they dashed for the protection of a rocky overhang, as more shots rang out around them.

"Six!" Aramis exclaimed, as they crowded into the space. "You said there were only six!"

Porthos shrugged philosophically. "Might have been seven, now I come to think about it."

Aramis slapped him round the back of the head, and he glared. "Oi!"

"What the hell?" Athos seized them both by the arm and they looked in the direction he was staring. Of the six captives lashed together, two were slumped bleeding in their bonds, clearly only still standing because they were tied to the others. 

"Is it me or is he a shit shot?" Porthos asked.

As they watched, two more men jerked and toppled, the rest desperately trying to move out of the way but trapped and weighted down by their fallen comrades.

"He's not shooting at us," Aramis said in shocked realisation. "He's aiming at them."

The last two men were hit in quick succession and the whole group slumped to the ground.

"Why do that?" Porthos asked, feeling sickened by the slaughter he'd just witnessed and his own part in having made it possible by preventing their escape. "Why shoot his own men?"

"To stop them talking," Athos guessed. "He couldn't risk us taking them into custody. Which means there's definitely something they could have told us."

They huddled together in the scant shelter of the rockface, trying to work out where the shots had come from. 

Minutes ticked by and all was quiet. 

"Do you think he's gone?" Porthos wondered.

"Why don't you take a walk out there and find out?" Aramis suggested helpfully.

Porthos snatched Aramis' hat from his head and held it out beyond the protection of the rock. No shots were fired at the apparent appearance of a man's head, and they relaxed a fraction, Aramis seizing his hat back and glowering at Porthos.

"Why not use your own damn hat?" he hissed.

Porthos grinned at him. "Why would I risk getting a hole shot in mine?"

Athos sighed, and before they could stop him had straightened up and walked out of cover.

"Athos!" Aramis yelped in alarm, but as seconds passed and nobody shot at him, they cautiously joined Athos in the open.

All six members of Vadim's gang proved to be dead, and Aramis shook his head in disbelief. "Now what?"

"Vadim's still out there somewhere," Athos said. "Probably watching us. We need to find him before he gets away."

"Or before he decides to get rid of us an' all," Porthos muttered, looking around warily. 

They investigated the camp, finding the gang's horses tethered at the end of the hollow in a clump of trees. There were seven of them, prompting Aramis to give Porthos another reproachful look, which he bridled at.

"So I got it wrong, you want to make something of it?"

Athos laid a calming hand on his arm. "The fact they're all here means Vadim can't be far away. He won't get far on foot."

"We should bring our horses up," Aramis said. "They're unguarded right now."

Athos winced at their inadvertent carelessness. "Porthos, stay here and keep an eye on this lot. Aramis, with me." 

They ran off, leaving Porthos uncomfortably trying to keep watch in all directions at once. Left alone he felt far more exposed than he had previously, and tried to tell himself that Vadim would be running for his life, not circling back to harass them.

Unless he came back for his horse. Which was now guarded by just one man rather than three. Porthos felt the back of his neck prickling and swung round, gun in hand.

The expanse of dry grass and rock was deserted, and he laughed at himself. 

"Jumpy," he muttered. A sudden clatter behind him made him swing round again, but it was only a bird bursting into flight.

As he glared up at it, squinting into the sunlight, it only then occurred to him to wonder what had disturbed it.

There was a metallic click beside his ear, and the cold metal of a gun barrel was pressed into his neck. Porthos froze.

"Vadim?"

"Good guess. Drop the gun."

Porthos hesitated, but any attempt at using it would get his head blown off. He dropped it into the grass, cursing his own stupidity at letting Vadim sneak up on him. He wondered where the others were, what was taking them so long. Had a moment of fear for them, before realising he'd surely have heard any shots.

Perhaps that was why Vadim hadn’t just killed _him_ , Porthos thought. He didn’t want to alert Athos and Aramis to his presence here. 

"Good. Now get on your knees," Vadim hissed behind him, kicking the gun away.

"You won't get away you know," Porthos told him, debating the wisdom of yelling for help.

"Really? Because look, this is me, getting away," Vadim retorted, and dug the gun painfully into Porthos' skin. "I said, get on your knees. Hands on your head."

Unwillingly, Porthos dropped. Every muscle in his body was tensed, waiting for the bullet that was surely about to come.

"Drop it." The order came from the direction of the campsite, and Porthos risked turning his head a fraction. In his peripheral vision he made out Aramis standing with his shotgun trained on Vadim. He wondered where Athos was.

"One more step and your friend dies," Vadim told him calmly.

"He's not my friend. I barely know him. He's just a convict," Aramis said dismissively. "My _friend_ died at your hand. And now I'm going to repay the favour." He took careful aim, and Vadim instinctively swung his own pistol up towards him.

As soon as Porthos felt Vadim move he launched himself upwards, wrenching the gun away. A shot cracked out, slamming harmlessly into the earth, and then Porthos was free of him, Vadim's gun gripped in his hand.

He scooped his own pistol up from where it lay and moved back, careful not to foul Aramis' sightline.

Vadim was staring at the shotgun, frozen in place, then seemed to relax. 

"Fine." He put his hands up slowly, almost smiling. "I surrender. I'll come quietly." His smile widened. "Trust me, I won't be behind bars for long. I've got friends."

"Who?" Porthos demanded, but Vadim shook his head. 

"It doesn't matter." Aramis' voice was hard. "He's not going anywhere. He killed Marsac, he dies here."

An element of unease entered Vadim's expression. "There's a badge on your shoulder that says otherwise. It's your duty to take me in alive."

Without taking his eyes off him, Aramis reached up and tore the metal star from his coat, throwing it to the ground.

He steadied the gun again, and Porthos noticed his hands were shaking.

"You don't have to do this," Porthos muttered, wishing Athos would show the hell up and take over. Wondered if he was purposely staying out of the way to allow Aramis take the shot.

"Yes. I do." Aramis licked his lips. "I promised Marsac. I swore I'd avenge him."

"I'm sure he'd be just as happy for the town to hang the bastard."

Aramis shook his head. "You heard him. You know what Athos thinks. That there are people more powerful than this behind everything."

"Then don’t you think we should keep him alive to find out?"

"I can't risk it," Aramis whispered, almost to himself. "I can't risk him getting away. Not after everything he's done. He deserves to die."

"Then let it be on the end of a rope," Porthos urged. "It doesn’t have to be at your hand."

"Yes. It does." Aramis raised the gun again, and Vadim visibly braced himself. A second ticked away, and another. Then Aramis closed his eyes for a split second, took a deep breath and went to pull the trigger.

The sound of the shot echoed deafeningly off the canyon walls, and Vadim slumped forwards into the dirt.

Porthos had a second of wondering why he hadn't fallen backwards, given that Aramis was in front of him, then realised Aramis looked as confused as he did. 

"I - I didn't fire," Aramis stammered.

They both looked up at the same time, to find Athos standing at the opening to a rocky gulley some way behind Vadim, lowering his gun.

"Is he dead?" was all he said.

Porthos went over to Vadim's still form and checked for signs of life. "As a doornail," he confirmed. 

Aramis, white as a sheet, stared at Athos as he came over to them. 

"Why?" he managed.

Athos shrugged with deceptive lightness. "So you didn't have to." He patted Aramis absently on the shoulder. "My soul is already tarnished beyond all repair. No reason yours should be."

Aramis looked stunned, but Athos had already moved away, was untying the horses. 

"We should take the bodies back to town. They at least deserve a decent burial," Athos told them.

As Porthos moved to help, Aramis reached out to him, looking awkward. 

"Porthos. What I said about you back there - I didn't mean it. I hope you know that. I just - needed him to think I was the threat. And that he couldn't use you as a hostage."

Porthos fixed him with a cold stare for a long second, then his face creased into a smile. "Figured you were calling his bluff," he admitted, letting Aramis sag with relief. 

Aramis smiled at him. "Still. Sorry. It must have sounded harsh."

"It's alright. Besides, if I thought you'd meant it, I'd have punched your lights out by now," Porthos added matter-of-factly, and Aramis snorted with laughter. 

"If it helps, Aramis was the one who insisted on hurrying back in case you were in danger," Athos put in. "It was taking us too long to find a path the horses could follow, to get back here."

They lashed the seven bodies to the horses, ready to lead them out through the maze of gullies back to the main trail. As they prepared to mount their own, Athos went over to Aramis and held out his hand.

"You forgot something," he said quietly.

Aramis looked down. The deputy's badge he'd thrown away was lying in Athos' palm. He hadn't seen him pick it up.

Slowly, Aramis took it and pinned it back on his coat. Athos nodded approval and was turning away when Aramis stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No man is beyond salvation," Aramis said in an undertone. "Not if he truly repents."

"Ah," said Athos softly. "There's always a catch, isn't there."

\--

As the three men rode back into town, those they passed fell into a shocked silence as they saw what the extra horses were carrying. 

Athos rode at the head of the line, self-contained and showing no emotion. Aramis rode with head bowed, lost in his own thoughts and barely noticing the scrutiny they were subjected to. Porthos though, looked nervously from side to side, starting to wonder how this looked and whether for a man of his precarious standing, showing up in the company of seven corpses was not the smartest move he could have made.

Word raced ahead of them, and by the time they arrived at the town hall Treville was standing in the road waiting, arms folded and glaring up at them in speechless astonishment.

"What the devil?" he managed finally, as they dismounted. "I sent you out to uphold the law, not commit a massacre!"

Aramis cleared his throat. "We should possibly point out that technically we only killed one of them," he said.

Treville looked at Athos, who nodded confirmation. "Vadim killed the rest." 

"We think to stop them - " Porthos started, then broke off as Athos held up a hand.

"Perhaps we should speak inside?" Athos said quickly.

Treville finally nodded, and after giving instructions for the bodies to be taken care of, lead them up to his office.

Once they were arrayed before his desk, Athos gave Porthos an apologetic look. "Sorry for interrupting you down there. But I felt it might be more to our advantage if it's not widely known that we _didn't_ learn anything from them."

Between them, they laid out the events of the morning. Athos calmly took responsibility for the death of Vadim, merely saying it had been in defence of Porthos' life, and making no mention of Aramis' involvement or his insistence on the outcome.

When they were done, Treville sat back with a tired sigh. "Well. What's done is done and I can't say any of them will be missed. You've certainly kept your promise to rid us of them Athos."

Athos gave him a grim smile. "I think there may yet be more to learn, if you will permit us to continue investigating."

"Be my guest. You've certainly caused a stir, who knows what might shake loose in the fallout."

Taking their leave of Treville they made their way across to the saloon, not entirely sure of what their reception would be. The reaction of the town thus far had seemed one of shock, and there had been little opportunity to explain to the wider crowd that they had not been responsible for such wholesale execution. They sensed the prevailing mood could easily swing against them and were tense as they entered the room.

To their surprise they were greeted as returning heroes, Bonacieux hailing them with more bonhomie than any of them had ever witnessed from him and going as far as to gift them with a bottle from his private supply. He slapped Athos and Aramis on the back, and even reached out towards Porthos before catching his eye and hastily thinking better of it.

Their attempts at explaining or downplaying the events were swept away, and they suffered the hearty congratulations of the gathered patrons with a certain amount of embarrassment.

"Why is it that the approval of that man makes me feel like I've done something wrong?" Athos muttered to the other two, when they finally had a moment alone.

Aramis laughed. "Consider yourself honoured. I've never known him give away anything before."

"Probably just hoping this means his supply will be restored," Porthos said, still suspicious of the seeming hand of friendship following the way he'd been treated before.

Athos looked thoughtful. "You have a point there, the wagons should be able to get through again. I think we should pay another visit to Captain Alleyn. Press our advantage. If he is mixed up in things, I'm guessing he's a worried man right now, wondering what we know."

\--

When they reached the site of the new station building, they were surprised to find it deserted. Rather than the bustling gangs of men and clamour of tools, the piles of stone and timber lay untended. 

"Hello?" Athos shouted suddenly, making the other two jump and glare at him. "Anyone here?"

Somewhere a door creaked, and Captain Alleyn appeared round the corner of a stack of barrels. When he saw who it was he looked less than pleased, but schooled his features into a semblance of polite interest.

"Good afternoon gentlemen. What can I do for you?" 

"Where is everyone?" Aramis asked, curious.

Alleyn folded his hands together. "I've given everyone leave to attend the funerals of the two men who died yesterday," he said solemnly.

"That's - very thoughtful of you," Aramis said, taken aback.

"Yeah, and won't set work back again at all," Porthos muttered under his breath. "First works captain _I've_ ever met who was that generous." 

"You didn't wish to attend yourself?" Athos asked Alleyn mildly. 

"Someone has to keep an eye on the place," he said smoothly. "As you can see, Garvey and myself remained behind. One can never be too careful, don't you think?"

He gave a slight nod behind them and they swung round to discover the mean looking overseer that had hit Porthos standing a way off. He'd come up silently, and was holding his wooden cane like a club, clearly anticipating trouble.

"I'm assuming you'll have heard by now what happened to Vadim and his gang?" Athos asked. Alleyn didn't seem as worried as he'd anticipated, and Athos wondered for the first time if there wasn't more to this emptying of the site than merely further delaying the progress of the railroad. It meant there were no witnesses should something happen to them. 

But it was still three against two, and in any case Athos would have put money on all of them being able to take Alleyn and Garvey even had they been alone. Alleyn struck him as a man used to getting others to do his dirty work, and Garvey could probably be outsmarted by a child. Not that it would do to underestimate them.

Alleyn was watching him thoughtfully. "I have indeed. Rather a drastic solution perhaps, but certainly effective. I admire a firm hand."

"Before he died, Vadim was - persuaded - to tell us some very interesting things," Athos said, wondering if it was just his imagination or whether Alleyn's expression had become tighter. "We'd be glad of the chance to discuss them with you."

Alleyn's gaze flickered uncertainly to Garvey, then back to Athos. The fact they hadn't arrested him outright meant it could be nothing too incriminating, but Athos was gambling on the fact Alleyn would be unwilling to take the fall for someone else.

"Why would I be interested in the words of a dead bandit?" Alleyn asked. 

"Because your name was mentioned," Porthos put in. He sensed Athos was unwilling to tell too many outright lies, in which case he was quite happy to assist.

Alleyn sneered at him. "You're no better than he was. Why should I believe you? You might have a tin star on your breast for now but you're still a convict and a murderer. I presume now your friend here has done what he came for, you'll be coming back to us? I know Garvey has missed you."

At this, Garvey gave Porthos a wide and unpleasant grin, displaying a range of blackened and missing teeth. He thumped the head of his cane into his hand meaningfully.

Porthos shifted uncomfortably. It was true, in the excitement of the last couple of days he'd paid no mind to the fact that this might all come to an end for him, regardless of the outcome. 

But Athos briefly laid a reassuring hand on his back, and Aramis moved closer until his shoulder was bumping Porthos', and he breathed a little easier.

"I'd be careful of what I said, if I was in your position," Athos declared. "We have reason to believe Vadim was part of a wider conspiracy, and before he died he implicated you."

It wasn't entirely a lie. Vadim had been seen in Alleyn's office, which was at least a connection between them. It occurred to Athos that he only had Porthos' word for that, but so far he'd never had reason to doubt him. Their only option lay in bluffing Alleyn into a confession.

"You're crazy," Alleyn blurted, eyes moving restlessly from one to the other of them. "I've never so much as spoken to the man."

"Liar," Porthos said immediately. "You've had the whole lot of them here."

Athos unclipped his holster and slowly drew out one of his pistols, making a show of checking it was loaded. "We made Vadim talk," he drawled. "I see no reason to suppose you'll hold out longer than he did."

At this point Garvey's thinly held patience snapped, and lifting his cane he ran towards Athos snarling curses.

Porthos stiff-armed him in the throat, then, when he refused to go down, rabbit-punched him in the jaw.

"Athos!" 

Athos span round at Aramis' warning in time to see Alleyn taking advantage of the distraction to make a run for it.

"Damn it." He took off after him, and Aramis looked from him to Porthos, torn. 

Porthos, who was by now grappling with the enraged Garvey, nodded brusquely. "Go!"

Trusting Porthos to be able to take care of himself, Aramis ran after Athos. The deserted site was a maze, stacks of building materials piled high in seemingly haphazard order. He heard a muffled shout in the distance and picked up speed, unable to tell if it had come from Athos or Alleyn.

\--

Athos chased Alleyn past teetering piles of wooden sleepers and metal rails, sacks of sand, and crates of something that he was moving too fast to read the stencilled label of but really hoped wasn't the gelignite it had looked like.

He rounded a corner and suddenly sparks flew across his vision as something crashed into the side of his head. Athos reeled sideways, grasping for something to balance himself on but finding only empty air. 

Something crashed into his arm and he dropped the pistol, numb to his fingertips. He caught a glimpse of Alleyn rushing at him clutching a timber spar, held high for a third blow, and managed to duck just in time.

Off balance, Alleyn stumbled past him and Athos managed to blink his vision clear, rubbing his arm to try and restore circulation. Part of him was gratified that Alleyn had decided to incriminate himself so obligingly, although as the timber came slashing down towards him again, he conceded that any thought of celebration might be a touch premature.

"You kill me, they'll hang you," Athos shouted, ducking back out of the way of Alleyn's desperate swipes. 

"Only if they catch me," Alleyn spat. "Besides, it's worth the risk. If I told what I know, it'd be a fate worse than the noose for me, I can tell you. With all three of you dead I'll just say your criminal friend back there turned on you. That we had to kill him in self-defence. Who's going to know?"

Athos had been moving steadily backwards, giving ground before Alleyn's attack and unwilling to take his eyes off him. It proved his undoing when something caught the back of his knees and he toppled backwards onto a platform, hard enough to wind himself.

Alleyn leapt forwards with a triumphant cry and Athos raised an arm to ward off the expected blow - but Alleyn had a different target in mind, and slammed home a large lever.

A metal whine started up close to Athos' head, adding to the existing background chuffing of a steam engine at rest and he realised with a sick sense of clarity that he was lying across the bed of the timber saw.

Athos tried to roll sideways away from the teeth, already moving so fast they were nothing but a silver blur. Alleyn hit him in the stomach with the spar and he rolled back, choking with pain.

Alleyn slammed home a second lever and thick leather belts started to wind around the pulleys, as the track Athos was lying on jolted towards the saw.

"You're insane!" Athos yelled, trying to fight his way off while Alleyn kept him in place, jabbing at him with the spar. Athos tried to work a hand down to his second holster, but it was trapped beneath him, and now the saw was just inches away.

At the last moment Alleyn stepped back, breathing hard and watching with a horrified anticipation. And then the metal blade of a shovel hit him over the back of the head and he crumpled to the ground without a sound.

Aramis grabbed Athos' shirt and hauled him bodily upwards and forward, until they were both sprawled in the dirt together, clinging to each other with a startled and desperate alarm.

When Athos finally accepted the fact he was still in one piece and Aramis could breathe again, they rolled apart and sat there panting.

"Well you cut that fine," Athos declared, giving Aramis a look that was full of the gratitude lacking from his words.

Aramis grinned. "Not as fine as you'd have been cut a second later." He scrambled to his feet and shut off the saw again with a thump of levers.

Athos was busy tying Alleyn up with his own belt. He picked him up and slung him bodily onto the saw platform, and slapped him round the face. "Wake up."

"I didn’t kill him, did I?" Aramis asked. "I was going to shoot him, but I figured we'd need his testimony."

"No, he's still breathing," Athos said. "Although I think he might be out for a while. Come on, let's go and find Porthos." He tied Alleyn firmly to the frame, and they hastened back towards where they'd left Porthos and Garvey.

They met Porthos halfway, running to find them in turn. He had a split and swollen lip, but seemed otherwise unharmed. 

"Where's Garvey?" Athos demanded, having quickly explained what had happened with Alleyn. "If we can get a matching confession from both of them, it would be conclusive."

"Back there," Porthos said with a jab of his thumb and a grin. "I left him trussed up like a chicken for the pot." 

They walked back with him, but when they turned the final corner everyone stopped in shock at the sight that met their eyes. 

Garvey was swinging slowly a foot above the ground, a rope around his neck and his tongue protruding obscenely between his lips.

"Jesus!" Athos dashed forward, trying to take Garvey's weight on his shoulder while Aramis and Porthos cut him down, but it was clearly too late. Aramis cut the rope away from his throat and checked for a pulse anyway, but straightened up shaking his head grimly.

Athos looked at Porthos in shock, but Porthos looked just as stunned as they did.

"He was alive when I left him," Porthos stuttered, seeing Athos' look. "I swear! I just left him tied up on the ground."

"Then someone really didn’t want him to talk," said Athos grimly. They all looked at each other, as the same thought occurred.

"Alleyn," said Athos urgently, but even as he uttered the name the distant whine of the timber saw came slicing through the silence.

As one they turned and raced back through the site, redoubling their speed when a hideous scream rent the air.

Porthos was the first one on the scene and managed to close down the saw, but it was far, far too late for Alleyn.

Athos and Aramis ran up and Aramis clapped a hand over his mouth, fighting the urge to gag. Everything was covered in blood and bone, including Porthos, who'd had to run through the spray to reach the controls.

Porthos looked at them both disgustedly. "Well, fuck," he said feelingly.

Aramis crossed himself and walked away on unsteady legs to sit down on a pile of sawn timber. The others followed him, and for a minute or two nobody said anything.

"Someone's serious about covering their tracks," said Athos finally. "But this might at least be an end to it. With Alleyn and Garvey gone, on top of Vadim - I'd doubt there was anyone else involved. Too many and a conspiracy becomes impossible to keep secret."

"Someone's been running rings round us," sighed Aramis heavily. "Literally. They must have been watching our every move."

"I thought - " Porthos hesitated. He'd been trying to wipe the blood spatters off his arms and face with handfuls of dry sand.

"Go on," said Athos. "What?"

"I thought I was imagining things at the time," Porthos said slowly. "It's why I didn’t say anything before. But when I was fighting Garvey - I could have sworn someone walked past. Just on the edge of my vision, like. But Garvey had his hands round my throat at the time, and I was a bit preoccupied. And if it had been someone - well, they'd have helped right? One of us, I mean, even if it was Garvey. You don’t just walk past a struggle like that without so much as saying something, do you?"

"What did he look like?" asked Athos.

Porthos shrugged. "Dunno, they had some sort of robe on."

"Ecclesiastical?" said Aramis sharply, but Porthos shook his head.

"Nah, more like a cloak, you know? With a hood. I never saw his face. I couldn't even swear it was a he, to be honest."

"What do you mean?" asked Athos immediately.

"Well, it's funny. Like I said, I didn't get a good look. But something about the way they moved - it could almost have been a woman."

"A woman!" Aramis looked taken aback. "I hardly think a woman could have done this."

"It would only have been a matter of pushing a lever," Athos said thoughtfully. "Well within a woman's strength."

"No, I meant - " Aramis tailed off. "To kill someone like this - such a hideous death. Surely a woman couldn't have done such a thing."

Athos and Porthos exchanged a glance, and clearly both thought otherwise. 

Porthos slapped Aramis on the back and gave a sudden grin. "I've known 'em would slit your throat for the coins in your purse," he said cheerfully.

Aramis gave him a sour look. "I was talking about _ladies_. Athos, surely you don't think - ?"

Athos shook his head pensively. "You never know what someone is capable of until it comes down to it," he sighed. "It's less likely a woman strung up Garvey, but then again not impossible. He was already tied up after all. I can think of at least one who could have managed it."

"Who?" Aramis asked in surprise, and Athos looked startled.

"Oh. No. I just meant - as an example. No, she - she's long dead." He stood up and walked over to retrieve his pistol from where it still lay in the dirt. "Come on," he sighed. "We'd better go and find Treville. He's not going to be happy about this."

\--

Treville most certainly was not happy, and despite their explanation that Alleyn had attacked them and clearly demonstrated obvious guilt, Treville only stopped shouting at them when he ran out of things to say and realised he'd started repeating himself. He finally subsided back into his chair and regarded them all disgustedly, frowning at Porthos' bloodspattered state as if noticing it for the first time.

"For God's sake, go and clean yourself up," Treville snapped. "All of you." He realised Athos and Porthos were both battered and bruised under the dirt, and Aramis looked exhausted and ready to drop. He softened his tone.

"Look, I meant to give you these before." Treville took a bunch of keys from his desk drawer and passed them to Athos. "It's the keys to the jailhouse. There's living accommodation at the back, you can use it to clean up. If the three of you walk into the saloon looking like that I'll have Bonacieux making complaints, and he's the last thing I need today." 

Treville looked at Aramis and hesitated. "Someone will need to pack up Marsac's possessions. I can arrange for it to be done, but in the absence of any family, I thought you might wish to?"

Aramis looked shaken, but nodded quickly. "Thank you sir. Yes, I should be glad to."

Dismissed, they walked the short distance down the road to the sheriff’s office where Athos unlocked the door and let them in. It was quiet and warm inside, blinds half-closed over the windows and dust stirring in the shafts of sunlight. It felt as if it had been standing empty for a long time, rather than just a couple of days. 

Once inside, Athos deferred to Aramis, sensing he would know his way around. Aramis lead them past the outer office and two barred cells, and through a door into the hall beyond. Here they found a kitchen-come-parlour, a store room, a smaller private office and further doors opening on to two bedrooms. 

They settled in the kitchen, which held an old black range and a large sink with a pump, which Porthos promptly began filling with water.

"If you can wait for us to get the range going, you can have warm water," Aramis offered. He went to a cupboard on the wall and took out a box containing medical supplies, handing it to Athos along with a basin of water to clean his own cuts and grazes.

Porthos laughed. "I can't remember the last time I had warm water to wash in. So thanks, but it's fine." He squinted into a small mirror propped on the windowsill, presumably used by Marsac for shaving purposes, and made a face as he saw for the first time how filthy and blood-spattered he was.

"If I were you, I'd just stick my whole head in," Athos advised, and Porthos snorted. Then shrugged, and did as Athos suggested, submerging his head completely and scrubbing at his face. When he drew it out he shook himself like a dog, showering the room with water and making Aramis laugh.

"I'll see if I can find you a clean shirt," he offered. "You're bigger than Marsac, but there's bound to be something." 

When he returned both Porthos and Athos were shirtless, Porthos scrubbing at himself with a cloth, and Athos gingerly prodding a sore looking weal across his ribs.

"What happened?" Aramis asked, having come late to the scene at the timber saw and not witnessed the extent of Athos' injuries.

"Alleyn hit me," Athos explained dryly. "I think with a fence post. Although it feels like it was the whole fence."

"Let me see." Aramis crouched down beside him and explored the tender skin with careful fingers while Athos did his level best not to wince.

"I don't think any ribs are broken," Aramis declared. "You're lucky, it's just bruised."

"Oh, lucky am I?" Athos drawled, and was glad when Aramis' lips twitched up in a smile. "I'd hate to have been unlucky."

"Unlucky, and we'd have had to bury you in two coffins," Aramis pointed out. "Here, try this on, it should be about your size." He handed Athos a clean shirt and went over to Porthos, taking the cloth from his hand and dipping it in the sink before cleaning off the patches Porthos had missed.

Porthos stood patiently still and let him, watching Aramis with a faint smile on his face. "Have you got kids?" Porthos asked suddenly, realising he knew as little about Aramis as he did Athos. There was something very paternal about Aramis' fussing over them.

Aramis drew back, and Porthos was sorry to see his expression cloud a little.

"No. I'm not married." He busied himself with lighting the range, and Porthos pulled on the clean woollen smock that Aramis had found for him. 

"Thanks for this," Porthos said, joining Athos on the wooden settle. "Much appreciated."

Aramis nodded shortly. "Not a problem. Not like Marsac is going to need them again, is it." He faltered, having run out of things to occupy himself with.

"Why don't we see how much there is to pack up," Athos said quietly, sensing that Aramis was feeling rather overwhelmed and might welcome being kept busy. It was clear he was familiar with the place, and to be here without Marsac must be upsetting.

Aramis nodded gratefully and lead them into the larger of the two bedrooms. It was neat and almost devoid of personal touches, to the extent that Athos wondered if someone had been in already, but Aramis seemed to see nothing odd in it.

"He didn't have much," Aramis murmured, seeing their surprised looks. "He came out of the army, I guess old habits stay with you," he added, sitting down on the tightly tucked blankets of the bed. 

"Which company?" Athos asked idly, pacing the perimeter of the room. A window looked out onto a yard behind the main building, holding a wooden shed that he presumed was the privvy, and an empty stable. He wondered what had happened to Marsac's horse, and guessed Aramis had probably taken it home to his ranch.

Aramis hesitated. "He never really talked about it. I wondered sometimes if there wasn't something - I think perhaps his discharge wasn't entirely honourable. But he was a good sheriff," he added loyally.

"I'm sure he was." Athos gave him a sympathetic smile. "And I hope you don't feel I'm intruding here. It's not my intention."

Aramis shook himself. "No. It's fine. Treville's right, the place needs to be cleared." He looked around. "There isn't a lot, but we'll need some boxes."

"I'll see what I can rustle up," Porthos volunteered. "The Bonacieux's are bound to have some crates going spare."

"Do you want some help?" Athos offered, once Porthos had gone. "Or would you rather do it alone?"

Aramis shook his head. "I'll be fine. Like I said, there isn't much."

"Then, if you need me, I'll be in the office."

Athos wandered out into Marsac's study to give Aramis some privacy. There were neat piles of papers relating to the everyday business of the sheriff’s office, warrants and reports and carefully kept accounts. Everything was so well ordered that Athos wondered whether Marsac had ever truly expected to come back from his encounter with Vadim.

By this time the range had been going long enough for Athos to boil some water, and having searched through the cupboards he made up a pot of coffee. He poured two cups and carried them through to the bedroom, only to pause in the doorway.

Aramis was sitting on the edge of the bed, silent tears running down his cheeks. Athos hesitated, caught between the instinctive urge to offer sympathy, and polite withdrawal. Aramis looked up and saw him standing there, and made an effort to stem the tears. Athos crossed the room to sit next to him.

"Would you rather I dealt with his effects?" he asked.

Aramis shook his head. "No, it - it should be me. Someone who knew him," he amended.

He wiped his eyes and set his shoulders. "I'm sorry. You must think me ridiculous for behaving like this."

"Not at all. Grief is a heavy weight to bear, and there is no shame in letting it out." Athos considered his next words. "You were - close, clearly?"

Aramis stared at the watch in his hand. Days without winding had stopped it. Like Marsac he thought, and the tears spilled again, unbidden and silent. 

"We were lovers." He heard himself say it before he'd even processed his intent to do so, and braced himself for Athos' revulsion. It didn't come.

"I rather thought that might be the case," Athos said quietly. Aramis looked at him in astonishment and Athos gave a slight smile. 

"You expected me to be shocked?"

"You're not?"

Athos shrugged lightly. "It happens more often than you'd think."

"Does it? There were times when it felt like we must be the only two in the world," said Aramis bleakly. "It's been so hard. To lose him, and to have no one that understood what I was going through."

"Nobody else knew?"

Aramis shook his head. "We were very careful. I think perhaps Treville guessed - but if he did, he was prudent enough never to see proof of it."

Athos laid a consoling hand on his back. "Will you keep something of Marsac's?" Athos asked. "A memento?"

"I thought perhaps his watch." Aramis turned it over and over in his hand. 

"Such things can be a comfort." Athos hesitated, running the chain of the locket he wore absentmindedly through his fingers. "But - they can also serve as a weight to tie you to the past. Stop you from moving on," he warned gently.

Aramis gave a mirthless laugh. "I hardly think I need worry about that. There is unlikely to ever be anyone else for me, now, is there?"

A movement in the doorway made them both look up sharply, relaxing again when it proved only to be Porthos.

"Sorry," he ventured, unsure whether to come in and sensing he'd interrupted something. "The door was open."

"No, it's fine. Come in." Athos beckoned him inside. "You're just in time, we're ready for the boxes." He stood up, his hand resting for a moment on Aramis' shoulder.

\--

Later that day they reconvened by agreement in the saloon and retired to a dark corner. They made a good supper, and were starting to gradually relax for the first time in days when Treville walked in and came over to their table.

"I thought I'd find you here." He pulled out a chair and sat down without being invited, staring hard at them all for a moment before sighing. "Jesus, you don't do things by halves, do you?" 

They exchanged glances. 

"I take it you've been to the railroad?" Athos said carefully.

"Bloody carnage," Treville growled. "Literally. I've had men cleaning up there for hours."

"That wasn't us," Aramis objected. They had explained all this once already, but Treville had mostly been shouting at them all through the first time.

Now, he glared at Aramis. "That's what you said before. When you brought me seven other corpses. Apparently the only safe occupation in Paris with you three around is that of coffin-maker or grave digger!" 

"You do believe us?" Porthos said cautiously, wondering if it mightn't be safer to make a run for it after all.

Treville rubbed his eyes and groaned. "Yes. While I have no doubt you'd be capable of it," he said to Athos, who merely raised an eyebrow, "I see no reason why you would lie about it when you had the authority to use lethal force if necessary."

"Thank you," said Athos quietly. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry it has ended so inconclusively." He sighed. "Alleyn indicated that he was being run by someone, someone powerful. But he never named any names, and presumably whoever it was then saw to it he never could."

Treville looked gloomy. "Oh I have my suspicions as to who was paying them. This just means I can't prove it." He fixed Athos with a speculative look. "But you'll get your money, don't worry."

Athos inclined his head in silent acknowledgement. "May I suggest you split it three ways," he said quietly. "I couldn't have done it alone."

Aramis and Porthos looked startled, but Treville nodded, clearly impressed by Athos' generous request. 

"Well. I suppose this is goodbye then," Athos said, leaning back and studying his hands. Aramis and Porthos sat up straight and stared at him.

"What do you mean?" Aramis demanded.

Athos shrugged slightly. "Your immediate troubles are over, albeit in rather more drastic fashion that I'd anticipated. I was only ever employed to rid the town of Vadim and his activities. With Vadim and Alleyn gone and no way of identifying who was paying them, I see no way it can be taken further."

"I do have one more thing I would ask of you," Treville said slowly.

"Name it," Athos said.

"Consider staying on as sheriff."

Athos looked startled. After the briefest hesitation, he shook his head. "I'm hardly suited to a career in law enforcement. Make Aramis sheriff."

Treville cleared his throat. "Already offered it to him. He turned me down."

Athos shot an amused look at Aramis, who blushed slightly, and looked away.

"Porthos then."

Treville sighed. "I can hardly condone that. He is, after all, still a convicted criminal. And until I hear back from the judge regarding the appeal against his sentence - " he let the thought trail off. 

"That's another thing. If you leave, until such time as I do hear back regarding the services he has rendered us, Porthos will be forced to return to the railroad. With no one here to supervise his parole, as it were."

Athos looked up sharply. "That's blackmail," he said quietly, seeing immediately what Treville was doing.

"Yes. I'm rather afraid it is." Treville looked satisfied. "You see, if you leave, I'm left with a power vacuum which Richelieu will immediately fill with his own man. I can't let that happen."

Athos groaned in defeat. "Oh very well. I'll stay. But - only until you can line up a permanent replacement," he added. "And only on the condition Aramis and Porthos agree to stay on as my deputies?" They both nodded to this, and Treville held out his hand. 

"That's settled then."

Athos shook it with a resigned expression, and Treville left them in peace, well pleased with his accomplishment.

"I'm glad you're staying," said Aramis after a second.

"Me too," Porthos added fervently. He smiled at Athos. "Thank you."

Athos looked at him. "You know perfectly well he'd never have sent you back," he muttered. 

Porthos shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. So thank you."

Aramis raised his glass. "Here's to Athos then, officially the new sheriff of Paris."

Athos shook his head. "To all of us." He smiled. "And God help everyone else."

\--

**Author's Note:**

> There is a sequel to this in the works, if it feels like there are loose ends!


End file.
